


Survive

by azuresky18



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gallavich, Gallavich Endgame, M/M, Post-Canon, Prison relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 07:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azuresky18/pseuds/azuresky18
Summary: My take on, and a gapfiller expansion of, “that scene” from the Season 9 finale. Ian reflects on his and Fiona’s resilience.MAJOR SPOILERS for episode S9E14 if you have not yet seen it.





	Survive

**Author's Note:**

> A big shout-out goes to MarzgaPerez for beta reading. Thank you so much!

_She’s here. She’s finally fucking here to see me, after all this time._

It was a bittersweet moment for Ian as he walked across the prison yard to where Fiona was sitting on the bench in the visitor’s area. On one hand, he was thrilled to see his big sister again, the family’s rock and glue who had raised five younger siblings by herself. On the other, he knew she was going through a rough time based on the letters he’d gotten from home, but it still hurt like hell that she’d missed his big send-off.

As Ian was led out of the gate into the prison yard, he ambled over to Fiona, who stood up with a huge smile on her face as the redhead, clad in that awful yellow jumpsuit, approached.

“Fiona!” Ian said as the gate closed behind him. His sister giggled wordlessly at the sight of her “little” brother, who now towered over her. “Didn’t know you were coming today,” he added.

The annoyance fell away, because Ian was just happy to see her. A couple of months ago, she had at least had the decency to write a letter to Ian, apologizing for not being there when he went in. In his response, that was when Ian told Fiona about Mickey, hoping she wouldn’t freak. Still, it wasn’t the same as seeing her in the flesh - but once he did, it was like their bad blood went away and none of that shit mattered.

 _This is Fiona_ , Ian thought. _This is my fucking dear sister who went to bat for me when nobody else did, when my Gay Jesus bullshit had gotten so bad that nobody else even fucking wanted to touch the mess I made. She was ready to raise my bail money, and when she came to see me, all I did was babble about useless fucking delusional shit. I’d even alienated Lip, my first best friend, my brother I came out to before anybody else even knew anything about it, before anyone even seemed to care about me. Will the rest be there for me when I get out? Because I know I’m gonna fucking be there for them._

Fiona looked at Ian apprehensively before addressing his comment about coming to see him today. “I wasn’t. What, you busy?”

 _If she only knew._ Then again, Fiona probably _did_ know her middle brother was going to go back inside and jump Mickey Milkovich’s bones as soon as she was off the Beckman property. Sex was a foregone conclusion in close quarters, especially for two horny guys with their history.

 _Was he busy? Ha._ Ian settled for a sarcastic jibe. “Uhh...you know what? I’ll fit you into my schedule.” He figured Fiona would appreciate that, since she knew full well there was jack fucking shit to do in the slammer besides work out. _And fuck Mickey, of course. That’s worth a million fucking years being stuck in jail. Holy fuck, is it worth it._

Fiona laughed in response, a sound Ian was more than pleased to hear. He’d missed her. He’d missed that laugh and missed seeing her so happy after all of the stupid bullshit that had cropped up between them over that stupid fucking church. If anything, that taught him again how, at least when it came to their ragtag group of siblings who had to come together in shitty circumstances to make the best of it all, nothing was more important than their family, as dysfunctional as they were.

As Ian felt a bigger smile creeping across his face, Fiona matched it. She looked like no one - not Sean on their failed wedding day, not Gus or Ford or anyone - could dampen her spirits.

“Hi,” Fiona said, laughing as the two of them embraced for the first time in months. Hugging her again was like coming home. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed this, even with being able to fall asleep next to Mickey each night. Granted he wouldn’t trade anything in the world for that, but knowing Fiona cared enough to visit him after all was a bonus that certainly didn’t hurt.

“What happened to your head?” Fiona asked. _Dammit. I knew she’d fucking ask!_

Ian sighed. “A guy in the infirmary had lice. It was easier just to buzz it.”

_Yeah, and Mickey did nothing but bitch at me for a week because of how badly his head was itching, too, and because he had to do the same thing and get rid of his hair. He’s pissed because he looks like a fucking skinhead, but he’s still Mickey, so I don’t give a fuck. He could be bald or have thick, furry hair all over his body like a werewolf, and I’d still love him just the same._

As they sat down at a table, Fiona inquired, “So you’re still working in the infirmary?” Ian had already told Fiona that in his brief response to the letter she’d sent, so that wasn’t news.

“Yeah, well, beats working the laundry like Mickey. Plus, I get to put my medical training to use,” Ian said, grateful that if he had to survive in this place, he could make sure his time spent busting his ass to become an EMT didn’t go to waste. At least something else good came of this.

“Mickey washing undies. You gotta send me a picture,“ Fiona chortled. _If he doesn’t shoot me first. I expect him to threaten to knock all of the teeth out of my head if Fiona sees it._

“Yeah,” Ian said. “Everything okay at home?”

“Oh, well, the usual,” Fiona said, inhaling. “Frank broke his femur and is laid up for six months, driving us all crazy.”

“Okay,” Ian answered. _Nothing terribly new there. I just hope the fucking hospital wasn’t stupid enough to give him another prescription for Oxy this time. I’m surprised they even let him into the front doors before throwing him out on his ass, because I thought all of the doctors and the hospital staff would have his picture plastered on every single cork board by now, and all of the interns who came in would be warned about the legend of Frank fucking Gallagher._

“Lip’s girlfriend’s pregnant,” Fiona said.

_What the fuck? Didn’t he learn to use a rubber after the whole Karen fiasco? At least when I pulled that shit, hooking up with random assholes and shooting that porno, the only good thing about it was how nobody could get knocked up._

Eyebrows raised, Ian asked, “Lip has a girlfriend?”

Even with the confusion and realization that Lip hadn’t told him that fact the one time his brother visited, Ian still had a smile on his face. He wanted to hear about the latest antics in La Casa de Gallagher, be they good or bad. If Lip got this girl pregnant, he’d just have to suck it up and live with it. No matter what, Ian knew if Mickey could survive the living hell his terrible father had put him through, Lip would be fine.

“Debbie’s still convinced she’s gay. Carl’s working at Captain Bob’s. Liam may be missing. And I’m thinking maybe it’s time for me to go,” Fiona continued.

 _What the fuck?_ “Go?” Ian asked. He had no idea what she meant.

“Leave. Move someplace else. She took another deep breath, followed by a sigh. “Shit. I can’t believe I actually said it out loud.”

“Someplace else like…?” Ian asked, still thoroughly confused. _Was this a sudden thing? For how long had she been planning this, and why had no one told me?_

“Somewhere near the equator,” his sister added. “I’m sick of winters, you know? Ice and sleet and freezing my ass off.”

 _I remember the time Lip told me I’d burn like a motherfucker if I went to Mexico with Mickey, that late night at our kitchen table,_ Ian thought. _I was a fucking jackass for not going with him, but now I have him back again. He was able to survive, and so was I, but fucking surviving wasn’t the same thing as living. Nothing taught me that more than those horrible days after Mickey fled to Mexico and Monica died._

_We should’ve been happy, but for him and me, there was so much missing in our lives. I still can’t fucking believe he came back for me, that my sorry ass was still worth something after all I put him through. I don’t deserve him. But where the fuck did this come from with Fiona?_

_“_ Tell anyone else about this yet?” Ian asked.

“Thought I’d try it out on you first,” Fiona responded without missing a beat.

_Goddamn. This really must be hot off the press. I’m floored that she hasn’t told Lip, or Debbie, or anyone else. I guess she really does give a shit to trust me with this and save it to tell me first. Fiona does give a shit about me after all._

The redhead knew that since they had all gotten older, had jobs and been able to pull their own weight for some time, they didn’t rely on Fiona as much as they once did. That was evident, since she was barely around when she had her apartment and was busy with that laundromat she fixed up. He’d miss her if she left permanently, but this wasn’t about what _he_ thought.

Ian couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth, or how calm he was, when he said, “You should go.”

“What?” Fiona asked, looking surprised by the reception she’d gotten. Ian suspected she had half expected him to grovel and beg her not to leave, but that was the stuff of yesteryears.

“You should get the fuck out. You deserve it. You should go as far away as you can. You were hoping that I was gonna try and talk you out of it?” Ian told her.

“Maybe,” Fiona answered. “I’m scared. She laughed nervously, but soon enough, the laugh turned into a sniffle and a little sob. “And now I’m crying.” She wiped at her eyes.

“When would you leave?” Ian asked, not sure if he should reach out to her and hug her again, or just push her out the door - fuck, over one of the fences - so she could get the hell out of Dodge and on with her new life already.

“Now. Soon. Before I chicken out,” Fiona said, still choked up with emotion.

_Good for her. She deserves to get out of the South Side, because she fucking worked her ass off too hard to be stuck here in this shithole. And she needs to know that, because she’s too good for this place. She was always too good for this place, because she deserved so much better than to be stuck with an alcoholic bum for a father and an absentee bipolar mother, because she’s a fucking warrior, just like her tattoo on her arm says. And she’ll never stop fighting._

“Go. Go as far away from here as you can, and don’t ever look back, okay? We’ll always be here for you. Always,” Ian answered.

And Ian meant it, but he knew in his heart he wasn’t just talking about his family. There was someone else he had to get back to, in his cell, to tell him the same thing. The last time he’d said something about “waiting” for Mickey, he said it because Mickey begged him to do so. Back then, Ian was just trying his best to forget about the little thug who held such a huge part of his heart, that he loved him and still cared. Living without him was much easier if he convinced himself he didn’t need Mickey. He survived...barely.

 

* * *

 

Ian lay awake in his bunk after another amazing romp in the sack, Mickey already sound asleep and snoring in the bed below him. As much as they fucked around after lights out, they always had to return to their separate beds before they actually fell asleep. Even if the COs turned a blind eye to prison sex, it was just a bad idea to lie around with their dicks and asses hanging out in here, even if his family was okay with the idea of Mickey still being around him.

It was amazing knowing that Fiona was finally getting out. She, of all people, did deserve the chance to get the hell out of the South Side - like everyone else in their family had always wanted to do since they were children. He knew now that Fiona would always have his back, just like he did that time when she had to rush him to the hospital when he was burning up with fever as a small child. The fact that she supported Mickey and Ian now was just the beginning.

Shockingly, when her second letter came to him, Fiona had written about how she was grateful Mickey would do that for her brother. She’d said it was so evident that Ian had someone who truly cared about him, and that she was wrong about Mickey “lighting a match” to his success, because what good was success if you were still broken inside and couldn’t heal? Lip had visited once, and even Carl, but nobody else had bothered.

Lip was shocked and nearly fell over onto the grass when Ian told him about Mickey being there. Carl just thought that it was cool, and asked if Mickey found a way to make a shiv out of broken cafeteria trays and plastic forks in the big house like Carl himself did, the time that he got locked up in juvie for the shit with Chuckie. Ian told him these dudes were way beyond plastic.

 _I hope Carl is still going to military school_ , he thought again. Ian knew this was a touchy subject for him, but he was genuinely happy that his little delinquent brother, Carl, was going to be able to pursue the dream he threw away. Who would have thought, eight years ago when I met Mickey, that it would be _Carl_ who’d be aspiring to go to West Point, and _I’d_ be in jail?

But all of that was before Ian learned how Monica’s genes and biology had conspired to hit him with the ugly stick. _But then again, I never would have ended up with Mickey had I gone. Maybe it wasn’t such a good dream to have after all, if it meant I couldn’t listen to him fall asleep every night._

The consequences be damned, because Mickey was here for him. He was Ian’s ride or die, his everything - lover, partner, friend - and nobody was ever going to separate them again. Whether Fiona did or did not approve of Mickey, she was going to have to deal with it. Ian vowed this time, if he got out of prison before Mickey, he’d damn well _mean_ it when he said he’d wait.

Initially, as happy as Ian was to see Mickey, he’d dreaded the lecture to follow. The conversation about how Ian didn’t tell the brunet, “This isn’t me anymore,” and fucking _ditch him at the border_ over it, only to go on a fucking gay crusade and get locked up for two years for committing arson and blowing up a conversion van. But it was like all of that shit went away when he saw his cellmate each and every morning.

They’d had time to talk over their problems in between all of the times they spent fucking in order to make up for years of lost time. But now, none of it - their past drama, the times they both ended up breaking each other’s hearts, as Ian felt a twinge of guilt again - mattered. Because Mickey Milkovich was his, this time for good.

_It’s like all of the shit I did went away the second I saw Mickey Milkovich, the fucking love of my life, in here waiting for me. He rolled on a fucking Mexican drug cartel, because he cared so much about me. He couldn’t stand to let me be in here by myself, probably shanked and left to bleed out and die in the Beckman showers. I remember how he told me what it means to love: to take care of each other...through thick and thin, good times and bad, sickness and health and all that shit. I never fucking appreciated it until now. He went without me and made it out alive, because he’s Mickey, but that’s not the same as living._

If Fiona did want to leave, he hoped she would, indeed, keep in touch. She deserved happiness, especially after the downward spiral Lip had told him about. Ian was so pleased to see that she’d looked so much better now, and he did get a chance to see her in person and make sure she was okay. And he meant it when he said he’d be there for her if she needed him.

Ian wondered where she’d go near the equator. _Florida?_ _Nah, too many old people. Costa Rica or Mexico?_ She didn’t speak Spanish. Ian worried he would lose touch with her, and that if something happened, he wouldn’t find out quickly. But then, after Ian stopped to consider what he’d said, she needed a new beginning. He thought about it and realized he was really happy for her, no matter where life took her.

This wasn’t another Monica, another Ian Gallagher when he was manic and just confused as hell. This wasn’t because she _wanted_ to run away from a problem, like he used to do - like he did when he ran to the Army to get away from his problems with Mickey, or ran off with Monica when he couldn’t deal with his diagnosis years ago. He knew, in his heart, that his sister was doing this because she _needed_ it. It was the only fair thing to do.

_She’s Fiona. No matter what she does, she’s gonna be okay. Because she’s a Gallagher, and if there’s one fucking thing we know how to do, it’s survive._


End file.
